20: Solider to Son.

Dear son,

little 9 pounds 7 oz
please meet your father,
166lbs and 3 oz.  

I love you, but this
will be  the last
time I'll get to
talk to you
for quite
a while.

Let's let this moment
last. I realize you
won't remember this, but
I will never forget
this moment, and that'll
have to due for the
both of us. 

The truth is
that reality is a
horrible thing, but
you won't understand
that until you're much
older. (If you're
lucky, you'll never
understand this and
will always live smiling
on innocent soil.)

I'm amazed, they told
me you were a large
healthy boy, and as
I hold you in my arms
for the first time
I can't imagine a person
could be so small. All
9 pounds and 7 oz
I hold you, my child,
realizing
that the future lies
in my arms. 

You're gorgeous, simply
breath taking. Your eyes--
your mother's forest green. And your
nose, my nose, my father's
nose. It's so surreal.

These wiggling legs
will quickly gain strength
crawling, running, then
walking to school.
those tiny finger tips will pitch
a ball, play piano, and
hold onto your mother's
hand.

And those lips...
You're simple coos
will quickly become
words. Your giggles
will probably become
bellowing laughs like
your father. 

I just hope I can
see them form their
first word.

Make it a good one, but
you don't have to save
it for when I'm there.

Since reality
has obligations, we
must part ways tomorrow.
Foreign soil and duty calls me.
Truth is, at this
moment, I don't want
to leave; however, pride
and honor are in hand. 

I hope you eventually
understand. I'm doing
this for us.

Know this, every night
I'm not home, I'm out protecting
this world for you. I'm working
to make sure that you and
your future friends all live
with thoughts of security. I'm
doing this to feed us. I'm doing it
because I love you.
(This is the only way I can
justify my absence.)

Don't fear for me.
Daddy will be right back,
One way or another. I promise.
Maybe not for Christmas
probably not for Easter
either, but eventually.

Until then my thoughts
will always be with you.

Every night if I get
some sleep I'll be praying
for you. I'll be praying
for your mother, the strongest
woman I have ever
known. 

I don't know how
she did it alone.

39 weeks and 4 days
and I saw
her for only glimpses
and and a few moments
during
that time.

Through phone calls,
skype, and tearful
letters I tried
with all my might
to be there for her
but there were
times I couldn't
make contact.
Those weeks were
the longest, but

but I feel the upcoming weeks
will almost feel like
forever.

Don't ask who cried,
I'd only lie.

Simple miracles
brought me here
to see you tonight.
To hold your mother's
weary head on my chest
and to hold you in my
arms. 

You're
the little man of the house
while I'm gone.  Keep your
momma  and grandma company,
and please, don't hassle them too
much. They need sleep, too. I
promise when I get back we
can stay up all night together,
reading books,
playing games
singing songs
and talking about how much
you've grown, 

but until then, get some shut
eye. 

Only 9 pounds and 7oz in
my arms, but such a heavy
feeling in my heart. 

I love you, son. 

Love, 

Dad
(a name I've
longed to wield)
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